I almost let this slide but after my loyal following of Sean Moran asked me when the next update would be, I decided that I couldn't let me loyal fan down.Quite a bit has happened in the last few weeks. The Official Site has gone live, and I don't think I'm alone when I say that it has made me moist. There is loads of good info on there in regards to the altitude, the people taking part, some awesome photo's of the pitch and the trekking route, the risks, the event (obviously), the legacy, and most important of all... the charity. Funnily enough, the organisers Kirt (the short one) and Wes (the not short one) forgot to invite me to the official photo session outside London Town Hall. At the time I was sure it was an innocent oversite, but combined with Haydn's inability to include my emails on team correspondance, I'm starting to wonder if there is a conspiracy against me. This all came to a head when, during a recent meeting where I was controversially overlooked as team fuhrer, I kicked my chair over, told them all to go and get f*cked, stole some of the donated money before running off swearing to never contact them again. Unfortunately I am niether quick nor strong of mind, and they caught me within metres of setting off and convinced me to stay on within seconds.
Apart from that Dean Jones-like reaction from myself, Saturday was an excellent day which featured the first full-expedition meeting for a long time, involving the naming of a couple of sponsors (Qatar Airways and Gray-Nicholls) along with some very exicting prospects which I'm sure Kirt would definitely not like me talking about just yet. The captains were announced, with fitness freak PC Gareth Plod backing up Haydn (whose blog I highly recommend) as Tenzing's Hierachy. Against us will be a team headed by Jules, who is supporting none other than my old beardo mate Glen, who doubtlessly earned his position, and definitely doesn't have to worry about having the complete puss rupped out his kiwi accent every time he talks.
Following this, the first square-off between Tenzing and Hillary took place. Kirt is keen to hammer home that the match on the mountain WILL be a competitive one and not just a jolly. Words that were obviously still ringing in Haydn's ears as he made us do 10 back-to-back 20 metre sprints as way of a warm-up. It was at this precise moment that I really wished I hadn't chosen 4am as a bedtime. Although, the stinging in my chest, cramps in my calves, and inability to breathe at least gave me a tester of what I'm up for at 5000m+
The game itself was a bigger fizzer than the third Matrix film. In short, we treated them like a plump christmas turkey and gave them a good old fashioned stuffing. Glen's favourite short film is called 'Bogwash', and in this case, we were definitely Rocco and he was the eager yet naive asian girl who wasn't really sure what she had taken on. After G-Plod and I opened the attack, they were 5/18 after 6 overs and the game was as good as dead. One of the wickets included my old-teammate Glen, whom I kindly informed on the way in that I was going to kill him with the next delivery... even though he was the non-striker. Unfortunately my next sledge got misunderstood and Kirt thought I was being polite when I asked if he was sure he didn't want to bat with a helmet against Blinky - Kirt politely declined and Haydn banished me to the boundary as pennance. Maybe next time I'll just stick with puerile questioning of players sexuality and repeated swearing.
I was certain that we would see Blinky completely lose it after he was called for a wide whilst walking back to his mark, but the need to impress his new captain saw him contain that unrequited anger that he normally shows whilst playing for me that usually results in a post-match apology to opposition players and thier mothers/umpires/spectators/passers-by/the archbishop of canterbury/women in general.
The game turned into a whitewash, with Hillary giving us a fright before we knocked off their total of 95 with only 10 wickets spare. I contributed a solid 0 off 0 deliveries after several retirements. This was as good as I could hope for after turbo-drinking 3 cups of Pimms safe in the knowledge that I wouldn't be going in at 6 before I was told with about 30 seconds spare that I was going in at 6.
Not only on the field was it a whitewash, but I must say we defeated Hillary in the after-match function too. We had them covered in every department from skirt-chasing, through to alcohol consumption and even fashions. If Hillary are going to compete on April 21, I'm afraid they'll require a Cleveland Indians style recovery.
Not all went swimmingly for myself. After the exertions of Saturday, I woke up on Sunday with my back feeling like it had been trampled on and a sore shoulder. Although that may have had more to do with passing out across 2 bean bags and the floorboards at Blinky and Glen's place.
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